


Watcher

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Demon!Stiles, Derek Loves Stiles, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Loves Derek, stiles is possessed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles tells Derek that he was possessed by a demon shortly after his mom's death. As the result, he is a bamf-y supernatural bag of awesome, totally handing it to the alphas and the Darach.</p>
<p>If you like what you read here, feel free to check out my tumblr for other Sterek-related stuff at: http://watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com/</p>
<p>Thanks for reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watcher

Derek always knew there was something a little off about Stiles Stilinski. So when he found out that Stiles was actually more supernaturally inclined than himself, he really wasn’t that surprised.

Of course, there had been clues… Stiles knowing a little too much about demonic lore and culture, being able to occasionally influence people and werewolves alike, and every now and then, being found lying in the center of a pentagram somewhere in the woods near Derek’s house.

There wasn’t a clearer indication that something was not entirely right with the ‘human.’ Derek was sure of it. It bothered him enough to try to make him uncomfortable anywhere around Stiles at first.

But then he got to know Stiles, partly out of some kind of grim curiosity, and also because if Stiles was indeed supernatural, he wasn’t being overt about it. Lydia had some kind of power herself, but it was more visible on her than on Stiles. Derek found himself entranced, if only slightly, by Stiles’ awkward charm, the way he cared about his friends, and the singularly ungraceful way he dealt with his life. Truth be told, Derek saw a lot of himself in the human. But that was a different story for an entirely different night.

Basically, the friendship slowly evolved into something more. The alpha and the human began dating, and Derek wondered if he had imagined the peculiarity he still felt in Stiles’ presence. Like he was always warmer in Stiles’ presence, and on occasion, when he would come back from a walk in the woods, he would smell vaguely of sulfur and mountain ash. Derek could never place it, and he didn’t really ever ask.

Turns out, he really didn’t need to.

**Six Months Ago**

It was a quiet Friday night, and they just finished dinner. Stiles had cooked. It was delicious. They were sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the movie channels, when the human moved against Derek.

They didn’t watch tv like normal people, you see, one of them was always laying on top of the other. Tonight it was Stiles, with his body limply hanging over Derek’s, his head cocked to the side over Derek’s heart. He could hear the werewolf’s heartbeat. It was always a calming sound. Stiles really loved it. He really loved Derek’s heart. All of him, actually. Essentially, he realized, he really, really loved Derek. He hadn’t said it yet, partially because before he did, he wanted to be completely honest with the alpha. It’s now or never, he thought.

“Derek, can I tell you something?” Stiles was getting nervous at what was coming next.

“Yeah, dude. What’s up?” Derek nonchalantly flipped off the tv, set the remote on the coffee table, and wrapped his arms around Stiles, shifting his head to get a better look at him. He began subconsciously playing with Stiles’ hair.

“You know how my mom died?” Of course Derek did. He didn’t like to think about it much because it made him sad, and remember his own family’s bitter end.

“Yeah?” Derek was wondering where this was going.

“Well, I was pretty messed up after… And the one night, I got into a fight with my dad, and decided to go for a walk in the woods. I started hearing things, started seeing ghosts in the shadows around me, and I got scared. So I turned back for home. I was almost there when I felt something hold me in place. Like something had a hold of my ankle.”

Derek was intrigued at this point. And, to be honest, a little worried about where it was going.

Stiles continued. “Whatever it was, I couldn’t see it, started from my ankle and crawled its way up in front of me, pulling itself along my body. It stood in front of me, but was invisible, and I felt myself panic. I tried to scream, but instead of the sound rushing out, something, whatever it was… went in.”

“Through your mouth?”

“Yeah, weird, right?”

“More like terrifying.”

Stiles smiled weakly. “Yeah, that too.”

“What was it?”

“I will get to that. I basically started to have a panic attack right there, not five hundred feet from my house. I could see the lights on. I could see my Dad moving around in there, but I couldn’t move. I was planted where it—she grabbed me.

“She?”

“Yeah.”

“Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?”

“The demon. Or, well, kind of an ex-demon.” It sounded better in Stiles’ head, admittedly.

Bingo. “Ex-demon?”

“… Yeah… You know what, never mind. It’s stupid.”

“No, I… I want to know. Keep going.” Derek was kind of intrigued, and really relieved that Stiles was trusting him enough with this… whatever it was.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, she called herself The Watcher. To be honest, it was a pretty badass name. Anyway, there I was, having a panic attack, feeling the sides of my vision go black, getting dizzy, and in the process of falling to the ground, when I hear this voice in the back of my mind, and feel a, sort of, pressure.” Derek couldn’t see Stiles’ eyes, but he was certain that they wouldn’t be looking at him if he could.

“What did she say?”

“Something in Latin.”

Derek snorted. Of course. Stiles perked up a little, but ignored it.

“She just kept repeating it, over and over and over again. And the strange thing was, it calmed me down. Slowed my heartbeat. My breathing. The panic went away. Then she switched to English.” Stiles paused. He took a moment to roll off of Derek, into the back of the couch, bracing himself on one elbow, while absentmindedly tracing circles into Derek’s thigh and abdomen with his free hand. “She said my name. My real name. She told me that she was here to help.”

“How so?”

“I’ll get to that. But she said that she would only do it if I could help her.”

“How could you possibly—?”

“I said, I’ll get to it. Look, I haven’t told this to anyone, so, just, you know, bear with me.”

Derek conceded. He cared about what Stiles had to say. Clearly it was important, because the human was never this serious. “Okay. I will shut up, I promise.”

Stiles snorted. “Sounds weird when I’m not the one saying it. Anyway,” Stiles shook his head as if to realign his train of thought, “apparently she was, at one time, some kind of wholly-evil thing. Designed and morphed into existence to watch humans in their daily lives and how they treated each other. Occasionally, when a slip-up would occur, she was the one who would try to make it worse for the person. If they did the easy thing and tried to cover up what they did, or ignore the problem, she would basically torture them. Get them to mess up again. Worse. Play with their minds. Drive them insane. And then watch as they attacked everyone around them. The ones who tried their best to alleviate whatever wrong they did, through being honest, or trying to help, she usually left alone. But sometimes, she would play with their lives too, and try to get them to break, like the others usually did.”

“Wow. That is just— wow. So why was she here?”

“Apparently she was tired of it. An eternity of being the supernatural equivalent of an internet troll was wearing on her. She wanted to escape.”

“Escape from… Hell?”

Stiles got a puzzled look, like he just realized something. “You know? She never said. Although, she made it all sound like it was the same place. Heaven and hell, that is.”

Derek was furrowing his brow, trying to make sense of what Stiles was saying. It was probably best if he let him continue, so he did his best to look as non-confused as possible, and looked at Stiles expectantly. He was sitting up now, legs crossed, rubbing Derek’s knee.

“Anyway, the only way she could do it was to find someone who was missing a piece of their soul.”

“So she found you… Because your mom had just died?”

Stiles sighed. “Yeah, apparently.” He shrugged. “But the kicker was that she couldn’t stay.”

“Really? Why? Can’t demons do the whole ‘possession’ thing?” Derek was asking a legitimate question. In a world populated by werewolves, druids, and other supernatural creations, a wayward demon was actually pretty commonplace. But Derek still didn’t know that much about them.

“Yeah. I mean, from what she said.”

“Hunh.”

“Yeah. Anyway. Where was I? Oh, right. She couldn’t stay. Unless I let her. I had to actually decide for myself if I wanted her to share my soul. But I couldn’t just literally say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ and be done with it. I had to make the choice without actually making it.”

“That sounds… impossible.” Derek shook his head slightly to convey how intense he thought that was.

“Yeah, that is what I thought. But then she told me that when it happened, she would let me know. And she pulled back from my mind, until I couldn’t even feel her there. It was weird. When it happened, it was like the sounds I would usually hear came rushing back, and I was able to move again. So I walked back home, and found my dad at the kitchen table. He had been drinking again. It happened a lot in the beginning right after mom died.” Stiles stopped talking, and let his eyes drift to the floor. He pulled his hand off of Derek’s leg and balled it in his other in his lap. Derek could tell he was remembering something that was painful. He didn’t need any werewolf senses for that.

“Stiles?” No answer. “Stiles?” He looked up from the floor. “You don’t have to keep going. It’s fine.” He could fill in the gaps from Deaton, or from a quick google search later.

“No. I need to finish this,” he started. “Anyway, all I wanted to do was talk to my dad about it. Not the demon, but the whole thing. Mom dying. Where he thought she was. Why we were still here. Really all of it. But I couldn’t. So I helped my dad upstairs, helped him get into bed, took off his shoes, and turned out the light. I remember thinking that I was just so lonely. I just wanted someone to help me fill in the hole mom had left when she died. My dad was so destroyed by the whole thing, I honestly don’t know how he managed to keep me alive, sometimes. Scott was my friend at the time, but I didn’t really know how to talk to him about all of that stuff,” Stiles makes emphatic and reasonably circular hand motions, “just yet.”

Derek sat in silence for a moment. “So was that when it happened?”

“Yeah. I got a warm feeling that started in my head and worked its way down into my body, and then… poof. That was it. I woke up the next day in my own bed.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, no. But yeah. At the time.”

“Did she talk to you about it?”

“Yeah. But only when I started asking, well, thinking, about questions.”

“Like what?”

Stiles was almost nonchalant. “The usual: what happened? Where am I? What the actual hell happened? Etc.”

“What did she say?”

“Well, she told me that she was staying. That I had made the decision to allow her into my soul, and that she had to act quickly. “

“Why?”

“Because she said they were coming for her.”

“Who?”

“She never said. But it’s demons, Der. I don’t think they were good people.” Stiles had a point. Derek nodded in assent. “Anyway, from that day on for about a year, she was in my mind. Never far away, but never too close. I could feel her presence when I had a conversation with Dad, or with Scott. She really perked up when Scott asked about Mom. But she never pried. She spoke only when I thought something in her general direction.” Stiles made a hand motion indicating something in front of him, a shapeless presence across the room.

“Sounds like a pretty nice demon. Too bad they all aren’t like that.” Derek was no expert in demonology, but that much he knew for a certain. “It sounds like you are building to something here. What happened to her?”

“Well, that is harder to explain.”

“Try me.”

“You sure? I’m kind of surprised I don’t have you running for the hills as we speak.”

“Yeah. Seriously?” Derek raised his eyebrows at Stiles. “I am a freaking werewolf. Try me.”

“Okay,” Stiles paused again. “Basically, I started feeling like I was being followed. Watched. It started at school. I just felt… like somebody was watching me. Watch didn’t even pick up on it at first.”

“Watch?”

“Yeah. Her name. ‘The Watcher’ had a nice ring to it, but it sounded creepy. So I just took to calling her ‘Watch’. She didn’t seem to mind… Anyway, when I started thinking about it with some frequency, I started to feel more pressure, more contact from Watch’s consciousness. I found myself going to sleep, and waking up sore and achy, my eyes feeling like I hadn’t used them in a week. I tried talking to her about it, but for as much as she was pushing against my mind, she said very little. It was like she was focused elsewhere. Then one night, I had a dream. It was a very strange dream. Everything was in shades of grey, and there were two chairs in a circular room. I was sitting in one, and she, Watch, I mean, was sitting in the other. She was wearing a hospital gown, and looked exhausted.”

Stiles eyes were focused elsewhere, like he was existing completely in the picture his mind was painting for him. Derek could smell a twinge of sulfur start to permeate the air.

“She said that they were coming for her. That she had been trying to figure out how they found her. That was why she was so distracted. When I slept, she was using my body to hunt down clues as to what, if anyone, was looking for her. She was also trying to gather anything she could to help her stay out of their reach.”

“Like what?”

“Books, mostly. Lots of pagan rituals. Old, Gaelic mythologies, bestiaries, demonological studies and canons, you name it supernatural, and she had somehow managed to procure it.”

“I guess it didn’t work then?” Stiles shook his head. He seemed almost, well, sad.

“She told me when it was going to happen, and she asked me for one last night in control of my body. She didn’t sound convinced that it would make a difference, but I said yes, but that was because I had grown used to her presence in my mind. She made it less lonely for me, and she helped me out when I felt the worst about Mom. When I agreed, and she saw that it wasn’t just me saying the words, but actually hoping she could stay, I could almost feel her bittersweet smile.” Stiles paused his story again, clearly thinking about the memory. Derek slid a hand underneath Stiles’ back, enjoying the warmth of his body as he did so.

“Before that night came, she told me three things. The first was ‘thank you’. She said it in images and memories that Stiles had shared with her, or that she had chanced across. It created a living collage that was etched into my memory. For helping her, she said, she would leave behind parts of herself to help me when I needed it most. The second thing she told me was to open up to Scott. She saw something in him that she really liked, and she knew that he would help me as much, if not more so, than she did, with everything. And finally, she told me that no matter what happened, there was no way that whoever these things were that were following us would hurt me. They would simply remove her, and leave me alone.

“When the night came, I went to bed like normal, and slept fitfully for a little bit, only to have part of me woken as I nimbly slipped out my bedroom window into the woods. I was there, I could see, but my eyes only moved when she decided to move them. It was like looking out the window of an airplane. I could see only what she wanted me to. I could feel my legs moving, my hands in my jacket pockets. I could tell that I was walking like I normally would. She was very good at making me seem realistic. We crunched through the woods until we came to a small clearing, where she began clearing some of the leaves. She opened the small bag she was carrying, and, began to pour a wide ring around us. The bag was almost too hot for her to touch. When I asked, she told me it was mountain ash. When she completed the circle, she covered it with leaves as best as she could, and sat down inside of it. They were there within minutes.”

“Who?”

“I never saw their faces. But they growled like wolves, were tall like humans, and had red eyes underneath heavy hoods. The shadows covered any definition their faces had. And they spoke to Watch. I couldn’t understand any of it. It was a guttural, angry, deep and wet voice that came out of the hoods. And I was surprised when Watch used my mouth to respond in the same language. Then before I knew it, they were rushing us. And one by one, they bounced off of the barrier created by the mountain ash circle, and Watch felt triumphant. I could hear her start speaking again, but they ignored her. Instead they all began chanting in unison and raising their arms under their cloaks. The wind picked up, and started swirling throughout the clearing. I could feel the terror coming from Watch. I felt her turn to my mind, felt something warm slide up my neck, and I heard her say that she was sorry. Then nothing. That was it. Blackness. I woke up the next morning in the same spot in the woods, and she was gone. And so were they.”

“So what did you do?”

“I went home. Somehow I remembered exactly how I got there. I went home, and I slept. Hard.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight. This demon invades your mind after your mom dies, you let her stay in your head for a year, and then she is just taken like that? Poof? Gone into thin air?!”

“Yes and no.”

“No?”

“Yeah, no. It means the opposite of yes.”

“I know what it means.” Derek sighed, exasperated. “Just, go on. What did she leave you?”

“Part of herself. It is weird. When I am stressed, or I am angry, or sad, or excited, I can feel a part of me take over. I can move faster, see farther, put thought to something, and with a few simple words, and compel people to do it. And…”

“And what?”

“…Well…” Stiles opened a palm, and focused his eyes on the spot. A small spark crackled into existence, igniting into a small ball of blue fire that seemed to hover a few centimeters off of the human’s palm. Then Stiles broke his concentration, and the small flame extinguished itself in a puff. He looked at Derek expectantly.

Bingo. “So, what, are you some part-demon, part-human hybrid?”

“I guess.”

Derek was confused. “Why did you tell me this, Stiles?” He knitted his brow, trying to figure out why.

Stiles sighed. “Because I wanted to be totally honest with you before…” He paused. Derek ran through the possible things that could finish that sentence in his mind. None of them were good. It took him completely by surprise when Stiles finished. “…Before I told you that I love you.” Stiles’ gaze retreated away from Derek’s. Admittedly, the alpha was kind of frozen in place. It wasn’t every day that you find out your boyfriend was possessed by a benevolent demon in the same sitting that he told you he loved you. A small, embarrassingly high-pitched sound escaped his lips. It all caught the werewolf off-guard. So he did the only thing he could do. He leaned over and he kissed the human who had just bared his soul to him. It was tender, but desperate. Derek wanted to put into it everything Stiles made him feel, and how it didn’t matter if the human sprouted bat wings and started spewing fire from a toothy maw, he would probably still love him. Well, mostly.

As he pulled back, he whispered to Stiles lips. “I love you too.” He felt their corners turn up into a smile, and Derek couldn’t help but smile too.

**Present Day**

Derek was largely okay with the whole demon-Stiles thing. I mean, he would have preferred his boyfriend to remain human, but at the same time, he was happy that he wouldn’t have to tear himself apart every time the pack got into trouble. With the alphas still actively trying to ruin his life, the last thing he needed was Stiles being used as leverage against him. The fact that he could at least hold his own ground in a fight now was a huge relief. Especially with this Darach shit added to it.

And if anything, their conversation about Stiles’ possession had made them closer. There was no longer any tension between them. Derek was certain that it wasn’t entirely due to that particular factoid, but he knew it had a large part of it. At the very least, the feeling that Stiles had something off about him seemed to dissipate as well. Derek was thankful for that. He no longer felt like Stiles was hiding anything from him. He looked up from the book he was reading. Stiles was at the table, engrossed in whatever he was researching on his laptop, tapping a heel on the ground nervously as he did so. God, even just doing that, it was all Derek could do not to close the book and go over there and touch him all over. He just wanted to put his hands on Stiles. To hold him close. The thought made his spine tingle. With much effort, he returned his attention to the book he was reading. It was one of Peter’s. An old tome bound in hard leather, it described the variations in alpha werewolf physiology, including the process by which an alpha can absorb the power of another wolf. As much as he has heard Deucalion, the over-dramatic leader of the alpha pack, describe the process, Derek had yet to fully understand it. The book wasn’t helping. He could barely concentrate.

That was when Stiles decided that Derek looked too lonely in bed, and plopped himself down next to the alpha and closed his eyes. Derek placed a hand lightly on his head, and began running his fingers through the human’s hair. Stiles hummed contentedly.

“That feels good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm… yeah.” God, could he be any more adorable. Derek snorted. He loved these moments. Quiet moments with Stiles were the best. And a rarity. Because, you know, Stiles. From where he sat, he could hear Stiles’ heartbeat slow slightly, and could hear him hum lowly in his throat. He could practically smell how happy the human was. And it was infectious. Whenever Stiles was around Derek, the werewolf couldn’t help but feel the emotional overflow his human was feeling. Derek really loved it when Stiles was happy. It made his whole body feel lighter.

“I need to get home. It is getting late.” That did not make Derek happy.

“Fine. But I am walking you down.”

“You really don’t need to. I will be fine. I am just driving to the house. It is literally five minutes down the road. Plus, I am not a helpless little human, remember? I can take care of myself.” He patted Derek’s stomach playfully, propping himself up on his elbows in a half-baked attempt to get out of bed and leave. He sat up and grabbed the werewolf’s hand. Derek went all dead-weight on him in a vain attempt to get him to stay. Finally he obliged the human, and let him take his hand as they walked down to the jeep, which was parked in it’s usual spot right in front of the old building. Derek smelled the air, and glanced around the lot one too many times as Stiles hopped into the jeep.

“You are paranoid.” Stiles judged from his perch in the cab. Derek was braced between the door and the frame, still looking around. Something didn’t smell right.

“No, I am cautious. Can you blame me? This town is infested with an Alpha pack that wants to kill me, or Scott, for some reason, there is an evil druid that is sacrificing people left and right for some unknown reason, and my ma—boyfriend,” Derek quickly caught himself, “is some kind of demon-hybrid who can conjure fire.”

Stiles thought about it, as Derek eyed him condescendingly. The human nodded in mocked agreement, adding a “fair enough” before shutting the door.

“Call me when you get home.” Derek didn’t like taking chances.

Stiles rolled his eyes and closed the door. He leaned out and planted another kiss on Derek’s lips. “Ugh, fine,” he said in exaggeration. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Stiles turned the engine and paused briefly. Then something made the hairs on the back of Derek’s neck stand up. Stiles must have felt it too, because he looked up just as the werewolf’s eyes went wide. A figure was standing at the edge of the lot, hooded and shrouded in shadow, with piercing ice-blue eyes and a face twisted and marred by poorly-healed scar tissue.

 

The Darach. Jennifer Blake. Stiles swallowed once, hard, as several other hooded figures strode into existence alongside the evil druid, hoods covering their faces, their eyes crimson red and glowing. The wind picked up, slapping the group’s cloaks around their darkened forms. The yellow sodium lights of the parking lot casting a dim, eerie shadow over the entire scene.

The ones who came for Watch. Stiles looked down at Derek, who shared his glance, only for a split second, before turning around to see what Stiles was looking at. As he did, another figure stepped out from behind the jeep, considering Derek with unseeing eyes, cane extended before him. Stiles saw him just before he spoke.

“Well I see you have yourself a snack.” Deucalion’s voice was tinged with malice as he gestured at Stiles with his cane, and Derek wondered why he hadn’t smelled the alpha or the druid approach. He shifted, planted himself between the werewolf, who was closer, and Stiles, and let out a snarl.

Deucalion laughed, and walked away. Kali, Ethan, and Aiden stalked behind him. Where they had come from, Derek had no idea. Quickly he turned to Stiles, who he had backed protectively close to. “Stiles, run.” Then he was hit with something, and everything went black.

**

When he came to, Derek was bound tightly at his wrists and his ankles, arms crossed over his chest and tied securely by thick rope around his torso He was lying on the ground in the middle of something. It looked like a symbol of some kind, but it was difficult to tell lying on the ground. As more and more of his vision came back to him, he noticed that Deucalion was standing above him, and Jennifer—the Darach, he corrected himself, was standing at his feet, her scarred and torn visage traded in for her usual, human appearance. Off to the side, Kali had Stiles in a chokehold, claws poised against his throat. The human looked like he was having a panic attack. Derek struggled, Kali’s claws tightened around Stiles’ windpipe, and Deucalion hissed.

“Now, now, my boy, we can’t have you doing that. You wouldn’t want your little… friend over there to get hurt, now would we?” Derek glared at him. It was all he could manage given the conditions.

“Let him go.” Derek’s throat was dry. He wondered briefly how long he had been out.

“Now why would we do that?” It was the darach who spoke, her voice barely human, rasped over by scar tissue from its previously-torn vocal cords. There are some things that even magic could no longer hide.

“Because I asked nicely.” Derek said through gritted teeth. The alphas chuckled and the dark druid just stood there, her—its face perpetually frozen in a horrific smile. Derek let his wolf rise to the surface, and he felt himself begin to shift, only to feel his own claws dig against his chest.

“Now see,” Deucalion inclined, looking down at the helpless alpha, “wolfsbane is so hard to procure in large quantities enough to bind you in totally, so we had to… improvise. If you shift, you will kill yourself, and then there will be no one here to protect your little friend.” He chuckled, clearly amused by his own cruelty. Derek’s breathing quickened as his eyes shifted from threat to threat; he didn’t know where to look. The blind alpha was pacing over his head, the darach was poised at his feet, and Kali was poised to rip a hole in Stiles’ neck. Even the Darach’s pack of foul-smelling ghouls surrounded them at a distance. There were no holes. No specific points of weakness, nothing. Derek was helpless, and he couldn’t take the way Stiles’ eyes would go all pleading as Kali snarled at him.

Deucalion continued, walking around the circle, which Derek was definitely certain was a symbol of some kind at this point. “You see, you were giving us a lot of trouble. You and your pack.” Deucalion tasted the word in his mouth as he said it, grimacing as if it tasted sour, or rotten. “You managed to kill one of my own, and you refused my efforts so…unkindly, particularly Kali’s diplomacy with Boyd. You even refused the olive branch offered by my old emissary.” He inclined his head towards the Darach, who gave no response. “All this after I showed you the power that I had…” Deucalion shook his head. “Such a waste.”

Derek growled, it was all he could manage. Stiles struggled briefly against Kali’s grip. He froze when she tightened it and hissed. Her claws were beginning to draw blood, if ever so slightly. Derek could smell it. Warm and metallic, smell coated in… sulfur.

Derek froze and looked at Stiles knowingly. Stiles shook his head ever so slightly as Deucalion continued pacing and talking. “Well, it is no matter at this point. I gave you your chance, and now you will feel what it is like to lose control. You will feel what it is like to be a prison in your own body, to watch your friends, your pack, die. You see, my abilities have made me somewhat… powerful…” Deucalion said the word casually, like he were discoursing with a friend over politics. “and as theatrical as it was to call myself ‘the demon wolf’ back when I visited you, I wasn’t simply perpetuating the use of a moniker, but rather, telling you what I can do.” Derek eyed him in confusion and anger. He wasn’t sure which was stronger at this point.

“And what’s that?”

“Oh, my dear boy,” Deucalion squatted down and whispered to the side of Derek’s head, “I am the only werewolf alive that can summon them.” He chuckled and patted the bound alpha’s head. Derek couldn’t escape the touch. That was when he realized that the symbol he was laid out in was a pentagram ringed by gaelic lettering. Deucalion was going to summon a demon, using him as some kind of bait. Derek tried to struggle. It was no use. Deucalion whapped him on the neck with his cane in warning. “So you are probably wondering what role you have in all this, no?”

Derek only growled in response. He wasn’t going to give the blind alpa the satisfaction of answering his ridiculous questioning.

Deucalion chuckled. “Well, every demon needs a living host, and this one, well, he needs an exceptionally powerful host.” He smiled an evil smile at the restrained alpha. Derek’s eyes went wide in understanding. “You will watch your pack die, powerless to stop it, while my demon uses your very own body to do it.”

The blind alpha began to walk away from Derek with Jennifer close behind him, before he paused and turned around. “Oh, and one more thing. If you try to kill yourself, Kali will tear your little friend’s throat out, with her teeth.”

Derek snarled again at the alpha, threatening to shift all over again. He struggled against the ropes binding him, only to find them growing tighter the more he moved. The alpha growled, and continued to struggle, until it grew too difficult to breathe. The ropes, clearly some kind of supernatural device, were so tight that they were cutting into the skin of his wrists and numbing his feet. But he had to get out of him. He had to get to Stiles.

That was when the chanting started. It was low at first, barely audible above the background noise of the night. But it started to grow louder, carried by the voices of Deucalion, Jennifer, and the hooded figures. As it reached a crescendo, the Derek felt the ground beneath him begin to shake, and the wind swirl and twist around him. Storm clouds gathered and morphed into being above them, lightning flashing with almost instantaneous thunderclaps. The chanting finally reached its apogee and the figures had their arms spread out wide and were moving slowly from side to side, faces downturned. Deucalion and Jennifer were screaming the chant at this point, eyes focused upward. A massive crash of thunder happened, and acrid black smoke sprang into existence and settled in the air, obscuring everything from Derek’s view. Silence ruled where the chant had just been going strong. Just before it happened, he saw Stiles’ eyes close in concentration, as if he was trying to remember something. Derek closed his eyes, willing whatever dark being the blind alpha had summoned to leave his consciousness alone.

So when he opened his eyes of his own volition as the smoke settled to the ground, the last thing he expected to feel was himself. And the last thing he expected to see was Stiles standing over Kali’s body, sprawled out awkwardly on the ground, blood leaking from her throat. His pupils had expanded to engulf the normally amber eyes, turning his eyes a dark, shiny black. He blinked three times, and cocked his head to the side, with an almost-evil smile etched upon his face. Derek’s nose burned with the overpowering scent of sulfur.

Stiles shifted his gaze to Deucalion, who took an involuntary step back. “You rang?” He asked. His voice was deeper, given depth by something that sounded nothing like Stiles, with an echo that seemed likely to occur even if the human would have been whispering.

The creatures that ringed the circle keened, ripping holes in Derek’s eardrums. Stiles eyed them curiously, and cracked his knuckles at his sides.

It was the Darach who spoke next, a hint of something on her voice, something that sounded almost like fear. She hissed at Stiles, who shifted his gaze toward it. “So, the boy who runs with wolves, the boy with no name, is a hybrid? A spark?”

Stiles silently regarded the evil druid and took a slow step forward over Kali’s bloody and lifeless body. Deucalion and Jennifer took another involuntary step back. He slowly advanced towards Derek, trampling and dissolving parts of the summoning symbol on the ground. His gaze didn’t leave the blind alpha or his emissary as he reached down and tore the ropes free of Derek’s ankles and hands, allowing him to slip out of them.

Derek just stares at the thing that Stiles had become, unable to move, fixed to the spot, until he hears the human’s voice inside his mind.

Derek, run.

The werewolf didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled up and away from the human, just far enough to realize that they were still completely surrounded by the hooded figures with the red eyes.

Then Stiles spoke again. “Call me whatever you want, Dark Oak. And you, Blind Wolf. You have hurt my father and my friends, brought chaos down upon my home, and taken innocent lives. It ends now.”

“And what is one wayward demon going to do against us and an entire battalion of watchers alone?” Jennifer hissed at the human.

Then Stiles opened his clenched fists, as the energy began to crack and spark along his forearms. Blue flames began to take shape and coalesce over his palms, crackling and spitting with ire.

Jennifer Blake swallowed then, a ghost of fear playing across her face, as she felt the power coursing through Stiles’ body. Derek could feel it too. It was as if a storm had opened up around the human.

Derek shifted as he walked back over towards Stiles, coming up at the human’s shoulder. “He isn’t alone.” Then he roared at Jennifer and Deucalion. It was loud enough to set off car alarms down the block.

Then they attacked. Stiles, in one leap, cleared the distance between himself and Jennifer, who had turned around to run. He landed on top of her, slamming her body against the ground with a muffled yelp, cracking the pavement under the impact. Derek pounced on Deucalion, and the two hit the ground hard, the blind alpha’s cane and glasses going flying, as they dug their claws into each other. As an alpha, Derek was younger, stronger, and could easily overpower the older wolf with brute strength, but as blind as the old alpha was in his human form, he could see as a werewolf, and he fought like a much younger one.

Stiles, however, had Jennifer Blake pinned against the ground with his foot. He turned her over, looking her full in the face as she hissed at him one last time.

“The boy who believes,” she snarled at Stiles.

He extended a hand outward, coalescing a ball of fire in his palm as she stared at it and swallowed hard. The small trace of fear in her eyes replaced by an overwhelming look of panic as Stiles replied. “No, the boy who is tired of your shit.” He leveled the fire at her eyes. “Checkmate, bitch.” He released the inferno and she screamed as her body turned to ash. Stiles turned his attention to the ring of watcher-demons surrounding them, until he singled one out in particular. In a thick, guttural tongue, he addressed it, and without another word, charged.

Derek wasn’t faring as well. Deucalion had him pinned against the pavement, and was fighting Derek’s hold to dig his claws into the alpha’s face, like he had done to Ennis. Derek heard a soft thump, and felt the blind alpha tense in pain before going limp, and slumping down on top of him. Derek quickly pushed him off, catching the shaft of an arrow buried in the center of his back. Allison. He heard a familiar, raw-throated roar that he recognized as Scott, accompanied by a higher-pitched one that could only have come from Isaac. The pack had arrived. Derek stood up and watched as Stiles reigned blue fire down upon the watcher demons, lashing out with every limb, sometimes clenching a fist around the flames in his palms and striking at a hooded face, or unleashing a stream of liquid fire that clung to everything it touched. Scott and Isaac too, were staring at the rampaging Stiles. Allison was even faltering in her unerring gaze at the surrendered twin alphas to watch the carnage, admiration in her eyes.

When it was over, Stiles was kneeling, sweating, and panting wildly. His eyes were fading back to their normal appearance as Derek walked over to him, and joined him on the ground. He needed to see the human’s eyes.

Underneath the dirt, the smeared blood, and the bruises quickly forming, Derek saw the amber of Stiles’ eyes, the golden flecks scattered throughout them, and he knew that his human was back. He pulled him in close, attacking his lips with a hot, desperate kiss. His breathing slowed. His eyes slid shut at the contact. But Derek could feel the energy building in the human’s body. He pulled back, Stiles’ lips trailing after him.

“So,” he palmed the side of Stiles’ face, “did you see that coming when we walked out of the loft earlier?”

Stiles chuckled tiredly. “Nope. I was just trying to leave.”

“Well I think it is safe to say that you aren’t going anywhere tonight.” Derek slid his hand down to the human’s neck. Stiles chuckled again, blinking slowly. He brought his arms up to Derek’s waist, sliding them around his back and pulling them together tightly, burying his face into the werewolf’s shoulder.

Scott chose that moment to walk up and place a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “We found your dad.” Derek could feel the tension just slide out of the human wrapped around him. “Lydia took him to the hospital. My mom is looking after him. He is sleeping. She said you would be able to see him tomorrow.” Stiles looked up from Derek’s shoulder, and mouthed a quiet thank you his best friend. Scott squeezed his shoulder and withdrew.

Derek separated their embrace, and pulled the human to his feet, interlacing their fingers and walking across the smoldering ground back to the loft. Scott kept eyeing him suspiciously. When he finally asked the question the rest of the pack was thinking, Derek rolled his eyes.

“So what are you?” He asked Stiles curiously

Stiles looked at his best friend happily, and asked “do you want the short version, or the long version?” When Scott finally answered, with the rest of the pack listening in, Stiles told them everything he knew. Derek alone sat there in silence.

Later, after a hot shower, Derek laid in bed with Stiles, and was absentmindedly tracing circles into the human’s side, occasionally drawing laughter from the dozing human if he moved his finger too far up

“What did you say to those demons before you attacked them?” Derek was curious. He switched to rubbing a palm up and down the human’s body.

Stiles answered groggily, yawning adorably in the process. “I told them that this was for Watch.” Derek leaned in and kissed Stiles’ face. Demon, hybrid, spark, whatever Stiles was, Derek was just happy that he was his.


End file.
